


Portals of Discovery

by LorraineMarker



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorraineMarker/pseuds/LorraineMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man's errors are his portals of discovery, James Joyce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portals of Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lls_mutant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Freaks & Geeks](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1607) by lls_mutant. 



Karl liked the new watch officer, Gaeta. He only saw him in passing and every time he did, the younger officer vaguely reminded him of someone. He seemed nice; the specialists under him liked him, too. Actually, a few of them had desperate crushes Gaeta never seemed to notice. Granted, he was exactly the type of workaholic Picon Colonial Academy graduated, all earnest brilliance and no play. _Galactica_ didn’t get many Picon Academy graduates; every time they did, Karl said a small thanksgiving prayer for Sister Adriane.

Picon Colonial Academy was the only college he put down on his pre-counseling survey. His college counseling session with Sister Adriane started with a firm, “You’re a stronger candidate for Caprican Colonial Academy. Their officer candidate program has a wonderful reputation with a focus on flight school preparation and a strong practical curriculum to prepare officers for fleet command. Picon Academy functions primarily as a research academy in advanced sciences.”

Shocked, dismayed, and furious he’d gone to his father, always his biggest supporter, only to have him say bluntly, “Karl, you’ve always been a big fish in a little pond, that’s not how it’s going to be in college. Now you’re going to be a little fish in a big pond. Time to man up, take Sister Adriane’s advice; apply to Caprican Colonial Academy. Best include a few others, too, just in case.”

Reluctantly, he’d done as they recommended and sent applications to the Caprican and Virgon academies, in addition to Picon. Back then, even early admission to both Caprican and Virgon Colonial Academies didn’t make up for the crushing loss of Picon’s no. The pyramid scholarship offer from Caprican Colonial Academy sweetened the pain a little, but at seventeen, the abrupt discovery of his limits had crushed him. Unwilling to accept the ‘no’, he wasted most of his senior year trying to get a late admission to Picon.

The perspective of time worked wonders. The first two years at Caprican Colonial Academy turned into repetition after repetition of the shocked sensation of inadequacy, as he discovered himself struggling to get off academic probation twice. By the end of the second year, he had finally acquired the study habits he needed. By the middle of his third year he loved the academy, had made friends, and the ache of Picon’s rejection faded. Nonetheless, even knowing he would have never thrived the way he ultimately did at Caprican Fleet Academy, it still stung a little.

Then on his first posting, he met his first Picon graduate: a brilliant driven engineer who vanished into _Hermes’_ engine room only resurfacing periodically for food and fresh clothes. At first, he put her off as an odd eccentric; three years, two postings, and a couple dozen Picon Colonial Academy graduates later he realized Picon Colonial Academy routinely graduated odd eccentrics who didn’t have lives. The last sting vanished in understanding. Sister Adriane had saved him from failure or misery, or both when she saved him from his own unrealistic expectations.

Karl didn’t envy Gaeta his opportunity to attend Picon Colonial Academy the way he would have five years ago. Instead, he worried the younger officer would completely burn himself out or become one of the ‘eccentric’ officers shut down in engineering and never emerging.

~~~

Sure enough, Karl realized after a week, Gaeta never came to the rec room. Brief investigation, consisting of asking some casual questions of some of the petty officers with crushes confirmed Gaeta’s Picon Academy graduate status as a workaholic without a life. Other than mandatory workouts, which he doubted Gaeta enjoyed, he hadn’t done anything except eat, sleep, and work since he arrived. Gaeta was too nice to end up burning out or going eccentric. Karl decided to introduce him to the concept of playtime. It took a couple of days before he finally caught him coming out of a mess hall. "Hey, Gaeta, I haven't seen you down in the rec room at all." 

"Yeah, well, I…"

Karl cut of Gaeta’s incipient excuse. "The Commander will understand if you actually don't work on your shifts off. Come on. You'll burn out if you keep this up." He draped a casual, easy arm around Felix's shoulders. "Let's go. It's time we found out what kind of card player you are."

“Sure, let me get my mail first.”

Karl grabbed cookies from someone’s goody box set out to share. "Whatcha get?" he mumbled around a mouthful.

Gaeta just held it up. It was a book, blazoned with the title  _Questos Legion_. Helo grinned swallowing the cookies. The brilliant eccentric geek had great taste in casual reading. "Is that the new Questos Legion book?" Helo asked. "They're good. I went to high school with the guy who writes those."

"Yeah," Gaeta said. "So did I."

"You went to Ephrasa?" Helo said incredulously. That explained his lingering familiarity. They’d gone to school together. "What's your first name?"

"Felix."

Karl tried to remember the kids who hung around Ben. Three years ahead of them, a senior when Ben was a freshman, it wasn’t easy. The only one who stood out was a skinny little kid, who he only remembered from his last school track meet. The kid anchored their relay race and pulled them fifth to third in an amazing flat out run. He’d been an asshole, Karl remembered, kicking the ground and whining about how they lost. The track meet, never important to him before, was one of the many bits of his senior year marred by his desire to get into Picon Academy. Caprican Academy had a great pyramid team, his strength. Picon didn’t and nearly no interest in building one, but had a kick-ass track and field program. He had wanted to impress the scouts. Just as he started to congratulate Gaeta on a heck of a run and apologize for being a poor sport, he remembered just how much of an asshole he’d been in high school.

 _Ronnie had been on his back all week for not being an aggressive enough player. Karl saw one of the skinny band geeks getting something from his locker when he and Mick started in on him again. Karl grabbed the kid from behind. His head turned, giving Karl a brief glimpse of startled dark eyes in a face framed by riots of dark curly hair. Shoving hard he pushed him into the locker slamming the door shut and spinning the combination lock once. “Aggressive enough for you?”_

 _“Hey, come on, let me out.”_ _Backing away from the locker,_ _Karl_ _wiped his palm against a pant leg. Walking_ _off with Mick and Ronnie,_ _they laughed_ _at the faint smack of_ _a_ _palm against metal._

“Oh.” Karl blinked and finished silently, _shit_ , _please don’t let him remember._ "Doesn't ring a bell," he lied, looking at the book in Gaeta’s hand, not daring to meet his eyes just yet. "Come on."

~~~

After the first card game broke the ice, Gaeta joined them for cards once or twice a week. Other times they’d sit together in mess hall for lunch or dinner and chat. They had more in common than he ever expected. Clearly, Gaeta was more academically inclined, but he had been on Picon Academy’s track and field team all four years. He wasn’t into pyramid, but to Karl’s surprise, he actually did enjoy the regular workouts and jogging. They started working out together after a couple of months. If Karl pushed Gaeta in their workouts, then Gaeta pushed Karl intellectually.

His friend enjoyed logic puzzles and word games receiving puzzle magazines regularly. It drove pretty much everyone mad to see him work those in ink, rather than pencil. He also ran through the complex tactical exercises published by the war college each month at a pace no one else on the ship could match. He didn’t often have the high score, but he was always in the top ten percent, frequently in the top five. At the academy, Karl passed the required tactical courses in the 79th percentile. If he wanted a chance at command, he had to improve to the top 90th percentile to earn a war college slot.

Karl went to Gaeta hesitantly, because even if Gaeta didn’t remember, Karl did. Once upon a time, he’d shoved him into a locker and left him there. He didn’t even know how long he’d been stuck in there. Stomach churning, he asked, “Gaeta, do you think you could tutor me in the tactical exercises?”

Gaeta looked at him a long moment, head cocked contemplatively as he considered the question.

 _He’s going to say no_ , thought Karl, _he remembers and he’s going to say no and it will serve me right. ‘You reap what you sow, Karl, remember that, you always reap what you sow,’ his mother warned him back when he was in high school and an asshole._

“Sure,” Gaeta agreed.

~~~

“Helo, you’re spending too much time with the bridge bunnies,” Racetrack said. “How about joining us for a game?”

“I’m supposed to meet Gaeta,” he answered.

Starbuck grinned knowingly, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Racetrack, don’t you know by now how why we call them bridge _bunnies_?”

“He’s a _friend_ , Kara,” Karl responded to the teasing good-naturedly, but wanted to nip it in the bud.  

“With benefits?” she asked archly.

Karl grinned, this he knew how to handle. “The only benefit I’m getting is moving from the 79th percentile to the 91st percentile in the war college’s tactical puzzles.”

“He’s that good?” asked Starbuck.

“He’s that good,” Karl told him, “he was assigned team leader in the all-academy war games his third year and the all-colony war games the fourth year and both teams won.”

“I didn’t know you knew that,” Gaeta had come in at some point and overheard their conversation.

Karl turned reviewing the entire conversation in his mind, hoping he’d come in after the ‘bridge bunnies’ and ‘friends with benefits’ comments. “Yeah, I looked it up after I realized just how much my scores were improving.” Gaeta looked a little embarrassed at the attention, his head ducking down and Karl quickly changed the subject, “Hey, what do you have there?”

His head went back up and he grinned, “I thought we might try playing Sector Four as a tactical exercise.”

“Sounds fun,” Racetrack threw her cards in folding, “More fun than losing to Starbuck at least.”

Sector Four was a classic strategy and tactical game. Played partners they had limited ‘communication’ cards where they could strategize and victory depended not only on the tactics, but also on anticipating your partner’s moves. Racetrack and Karl deferred to the more experienced tacticians Gaeta and Kara. Kara decided to play the offensive party, Virgon, leaving Gaeta defending Picon. They played in rounds with Karl and Racetrack rotating partners. Karl started with Gaeta. Familiar with both Gaeta’s tactical style and Kara’s they won handily over Starbuck and Racetrack.

In the second round, Kara and he, more able to anticipate each other’s moves managed to scrap a win on points over Racetrack and Gaeta. By then they had an audience.

“Damn, that’s just ugly,” said Skulls.

Looking at the board, Karl had to agree, the battle cost both sides most of their forces and as he retreated, Gaeta made sure there was nothing worth taking in the disputed sector. In real life, it would have been a pyrrhic victory at best. He shrugged and said, “Gaeta’s a sneaky, take-no-prisoners son-of-a-bitch when he’s losing.”

“No shit,” muttered Starbuck. “I didn’t expect him to start bombing the crap out of the farms, factories, and utilities.”

“Why not?” asked Boomer, who’d come in late and hadn’t seen enough of the game to know what Gaeta had done.

“Because, they _were_ his damned positions,” she said with irritation still looking at the board. The next round started from this board and Gaeta still had unused assets located in the playing field Starbuck and he had just taken. With the asset cards still face down, Starbuck had no idea what type of landmines he had planted in her territory. Helo knew enough about Gaeta’s style to know some of them were undoubtedly low value, low damage distractions, but he had at least one major player in Starbuck’s territory and she would spend half of the next round trying to take his assets before he could use them.

“I was in retreat, Starbuck, why would I leave you anything useful,” Gaeta stated flatly.

A wry chuckle erupted from Tigh. He stood, swaying a little. He’d been at the bottle again. “It’s called scorched earth and it’s why no one except the Cylons successfully invaded Picon since we settled. You can destroy a thing from the air, but to take it takes a ground war. Have you ever been on Picon during our winters?” he asked. “We just retreat to the high plateaus and wait for snow, ice, and starvation to kill off the invaders.” He shook his head at the board. “Ya picked the wrong side to play, Starbuck, and the wrong man to play against. Gaeta’s going to give you a drubbing the next round.” He grinned delightedly. “Might stay and enjoy it.”

~~~

Karl leaned back on the old sofa squished between three nieces and two dogs. It might be unusual to have a sofa in a kitchen, but his mother, Myra Agathon, refused to let the old one go when they remodeled the living room twenty years ago. Instead, she reupholstered it, pulled out the dinette, which their family had long since outgrown, and crammed the sofa between her secretary desk and the china cabinet. Every few years it got a face lift of new cushions and fabric. His last trip home it had been a pale cream with large slate blue flowers which matched the painted cabinets and blue tiled countertop. Sometime between then and now, she’d done a complete kitchen overhaul. They stripped the painted cream cabinets and whitewashed them replacing the old brass hardware with black iron, and redid the counters in granite. New stainless steel appliances replaced old cream ones he’d grown up with and she reupholstered the sofa in a cheerful yellow and white striped fabric. When he got in last night, he’d been too tired to notice the differences. Now he stared at the redone kitchen. Somehow, without changing the layout or removing anything, it had expanded.

“Kitchen looks good, Mom.”

“Thanks, Karl. Your father, Paul, and I did most of the labor with a bit of help from your sisters and their husbands.”

“We helped, too!” Lizzie yelled.

“Inside voice,” Karl reminded her.

“We did,” Addie agreed with her twin, “We put the new handles on all the cabinets. It was easy for us, because we have little hands.” They both held up their hands, palms out, fingers widespread to demonstrate. Those two looked so much like their father; Karl had to search for Angela in them. She was there in their eyes, but their red hair, freckles and pointed little noises and chins were entirely from their dad.

His mother stood at the stove nimbly preparing breakfast, turning the ham, just before giving the scrambled eggs a stir then moving on to the gravy. He smelled biscuits in the oven and his stomach rumbled. “Martha, could you pour out the orange juice for the adults and milk for your sisters. You can have your pick, sweetie.” His oldest niece, Martha, untangled herself from her younger sisters cheerfully. At eleven, she looked exactly like the old pictures of both his sisters at her age. Thin with long brown hair framing a moon shaped face.

His two older sisters lived close to him. Angela lived within walking distance, making it easy for her daughters Martha, Lizzie, and Addie to walk over for breakfast and either one of his parent’s or Grace’s oldest, Paul to drive them to school when she had an early shift at the hospital. His oldest sister, Grace lived a little further, but close enough for his oldest nephew, Paul to be a senior at Ephrasa.

“Is Dad coming down?” he asked counting the plates as she served the food.

“He had an early morning conference call. You know how it gets trying to coordinate cross planet conference calls. Finding a time that’s not 4:00 a.m. somewhere is impossible. It was his turn to get up early.” She shrugged. “I’ll be happy when he retires.”

“He’s retiring?” Karl asked shocked, the idea of his father leaving a job he’d had since before Karl was born had never crossed his mind.

“He’s mentoring a nice young woman to replace him, so not for another year or so, but yes. We’re thinking about traveling and seeing something besides the most popular conference locations on the colonies.”

Karl considered the concept of his father retiring. He’d been in charge of the shipping department for Colonial Shipping for – Karl had to pause and calculate in his head using the family markers of births and special events. He got the promotion sometime right after Mom had Grace. Grace turned forty last month, which made it nearly forty years. It also made his father sixty-seven and his mother sixty-five. _Gods, they were getting old._ Karl tried to see it in his mother’s face, but she looked the same to him. Tall and wiry, more handsome than beautiful the angles of her face translated better in his own, but when she turned and he saw her in the full light her salt and pepper hair was much more salt than pepper and the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth had deepened to the true wrinkles of age.

His sister Grace walked in the backdoor talking on her cell phone and arguing with Paul at the same time. “Send Martin or Sally with whichever wet-behind-the-ears associate is available to cover the hearing. They put the file together and know which bench brief—”

“Mom, if you give me the keys I can—”

“You’re on in-school suspension and grounded, no,” she said in a tone that told Karl she’d been saying ‘no’ a lot and was tired of it. “— as I was saying, if you send Martin or Sally, all the new kid will have to do is say ‘yes, your honor,’ ‘no, your honor,’ ‘if it please, your honor may I present’ and hand him whichever bench brief they give him, and then ‘thank you, your honor’ when we win.”

 _In school suspension?_ Karl mouthed the question at Paul, who shrugged in a gesture he remembered using all too often a decade ago.

Paul turned away busying himself at the coffeepot. By the time, Grace had finished on the phone he had a cup waiting for her. “Mom,” he started.

“NO, Paul!”

Karl winced.

His face blank, Paul set the cup down. “Your coffee’s here if you want it. I’ll be outside.” He stalked out, all hurt feelings and wounded dignity and Karl remembered exactly how it felt to get your head bitten off when you were trying to do something nice, too. The girls followed him out, quiet for once.

As soon as the door slammed behind them, Grace muttered, “Shit.”

“I can get them to school,” Karl offered. With a nod, she tossed him the keys.

~~~

“I’m telling you, Mom, I don’t know what’s up with my kid. I hate it! He’s arrogant; he’s obnoxious; he’s turning into a bully. I just … I don’t know what to do.” Karl overheard Grace as he walked into the kitchen. She sat at the table in the dining room toying with her cup of coffee.

“He’s a lot like Karl at that age,” his mom said with a shrug.

“Without his good points,” Grace said.

“Your brother’s good points were pretty well concealed at seventeen, Gracie.”

“Ouch,” Karl joked with a laugh, letting them know he was back.

“Come here, you.” Grace grabbed him in a fierce hug. “I missed you baby brother.” She let go of him. “Now, tell me my oldest son is going to turn out like you and not end up in jail in ten years.”

“He’s going to turn out like me and not end up in jail in ten years,” Karl obediently repeated.

“Gods, I hope so. Bullying, he’s on suspension for bullying. Something I know you never did.”

“Oh, ouch,” this time he wasn’t joking. Karl sat down remembering leaning against a wall making vicious comments at the band kids as they came out of practice, then wide startled eyes and his hand shoving a scrawny kid into a locker before slamming the door shut and spinning the combination lock. “I kind of did, a little. I didn’t get caught, but, um, Mom’s right, I was really a prick in high school.”

Grace looked at him eyes wide in her moon-shaped face. Their mother left softly shutting the doors between the dining room and kitchen. “I don’t whether to be appalled or relieved,” Grace said.

~~~

He’d met Gaeta and his friends for drinks the other night and invited him over for dinner tonight. It was weird seeing Gaeta playing customer at the twins’ pretend store with Martha. He changed the pitch and tone of his voice to be different pretend people making all three of the girls giggle. Paul hesitated at first, but seeing Gaeta’s ease playing; he joined them on the floor and played along. Abruptly, Karl realized if he had given Gaeta the chance in high school he would have liked him, really liked him, and liked himself a lot better. He was funny and wry, smart as hell, and a hugely good sport. He’d known Gaeta won and lost gracefully at cards and tactical games, but it took real patience for adults to play with little kids without patronizing. With a grin, Karl got down on the living room floor and joined the play until Angela and Jim interrupted the game firmly saying _no_ to the girls’ _please_ and _just a little longer_ to take their children home.

Grace and Paul, Sr. took their toddler home shortly after with a parental admonishment for Paul to not wear out his welcome. Karl’s parents stayed down for another beer and stories Karl’s service. Paul kept sneaking glances at Gaeta as he listened to Gaeta and Karl’s stories about the people on _Galactica._ When they went up, Paul asked, “Do you play video games, Uncle Karl does, but he’s …”

“I’m crap at them and yeah he does, but you might want to do something besides Worlds at War unless you want a complete ass kicking.”

“Really,” Paul said his face brightening, “I always win, it’s too easy.”

“Well let’s see what I can do about that,” offered Gaeta.

“YES!” Paul did a mock maniacal laugh, “a new victim.”

Two hours later, after giving Paul a lesson on not underestimating a Colonial Fleet Tactical Officer, Gaeta reluctantly left explaining his family expected him home tonight, not tomorrow morning. Karl and Paul cleaned the detritus of their snacks.

“I thought all your high school buddies were jocks like those guys who used to stop by when you were in college.”

“Felix was three years behind me, we didn’t exactly hang out,” Karl explained cautiously.

“Uncle Karl, he’s TOOL!”

“Tool?”

With a sigh, Paul explained, “Cool, Uncle Karl, with a ‘t’ for totally, _tool_  .”

Grace’s worry over Paul and Karl’s guilt coalesced together. He kept it non-confrontational, deliberately not turning to look at his nephew as he told him, “Yeah, well ten years ago I wasn’t ‘tool’. I was pretty much an asshole. One of the only two times I actually came in contact with Gaeta in high school, I shoved him into his locker and locked him in.” His admission caused Paul to go completely silent.

“He’s nice,” he finally said.

“Yep,” Helo acknowledged, grabbing empty soda cans and tossing them in the recycle bin.

“How could you?” Paul kept cleaning, too picking up candy wrappers and chip bags to dump in the trash.

“I told you, I was an asshole.”

“No, I mean, how did he even fit?”

At the completely practical question, Karl turned to look at his nephew worried that he hadn’t gotten the point. He chewed worriedly at his lower lip and never looked up to meet Karl’s eyes.

“Paul, back then Gaeta was nearly a foot shorter and fifty, sixty pounds lighter. He was just this skinny irritating band geek and I was …” he stopped. This was like a navigating through a minefield. He didn’t know exactly what Paul had done or how similar it was to what he had done. “Everyone does things they regret and maybe everyone’s an asshole in high school. I don’t want you think back on your last year of high school in ten years and feel like I do. I was miserable. Under all the smiles and the jokes, I was pretending to be someone else and it was someone I didn’t really like being. Truth is I hated myself. I didn’t know how to stop being the person I hated. It took two years of getting my ass kicked in college before I finally figured out the only way to do it was to stop trying to impress other people and just be who I was.”

Paul looked him in the eyes then looked down and resumed cleaning. They finished in silence. As they took the trash outside, Paul said, “I was trying to impress a girl. I didn’t do what you did, but it was stupid and it was mean … and… I really like her, but I don’t like what I did.”

Karl hugged him. “Hey, if a girl needs you to do something stupid and mean to impress her, then she’s not worth your time.”

“Yeah, but she’s really hot.”

“Paul, I’m pretty sure there are hot girls who will like without wanting you to act ‘stupid and mean.’ Maybe, you should ask one of them out.”

He shrugged without making a commitment.

Karl grabbed his coat. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

They walked down the drive to Karl’s truck, stored here for his family to use when he was gone. “So, you and Gaeta you’re all right now?” Paul asked. “I mean you talked about it and he forgave you and everything?”

Karl stopped, feeling gut punched. “I don’t think Gaeta remembers and I don’t want to remind him of something that will make him…”

“...hate you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not cool, that’s like the total opposite. You gotta come clean, Uncle Karl.”

~~~

Back on board _Galactica_ , occasionally Karl remembered Paul’s admonishing, _you gotta come clean, Uncle Karl_. Sometimes it happened in the middle of the night, alone in his rack. Other times, he’d see Gaeta laughing with Duella or Boomer and remember what he’d done. They met for meals two or three times a week, jogged daily, and got together most evenings for cards or tactical games. Most of the time Karl could let the knowledge he wasn’t right with Gaeta fall below the DRADIS. Sometimes awareness that he still hadn’t apologized struck his mind like a sneak attack leaving him momentarily heartsick.

Karl didn’t pretend he didn’t have the opportunity to tell him and apologize. He did; many chances, he simply never used any of them. Reluctantly, he acknowledged why he didn’t — he was afraid. He couldn’t bear to lose Gaeta’s friendship. The closest he came was when he teased Gaeta about re-reading Gaius Baltar’s book.

"It's just… Gods, Helo, do you have any idea how much this man is responsible for? How frakking  _brilliant_  he is?"

Automatically, Karl asked, "Smarter than you?"

"Yes. I — _You_  think I'm smart?"

The surprise in Gaeta’s voice startled him. He was certainly the smartest person Karl knew. "Yeah, well. Weren't you two years ahead in math in high school or something?" Karl looked down at the book he’d gotten from Gaeta book flipping it over to look at the picture on the back.

"I never told you that."

Karl shrugged, he remembered Ronnie complaining about him being in his class.

"I hated high school," Gaeta admitted. "A lot of people made my life miserable."

 _Like me,_ and Paul’s ‘ _you gotta come clean_ , _Uncle Karl_ ’ rang through his head. He opened his mouth, instead of an apology, he said, "I hated high school, too. Didn't much like who I was then."

"What do you mean?" Gaeta looked at him curiously.

"When you're a teenager, everything seems to be about acceptance, you know? I wanted to be cool. I wanted to have friends. I was kind of a loner on the Pyramid team, and… well, so, I did some things I wasn't proud of, but that made them all seem to like me more." Karl watched Felix for any sign of dawning recognition. It never came. All he did was give a non-committal hum. Karl still wanted to come clean. He couldn’t’ manage it. "I got what I deserved, though," Karl laughed deprecatingly. "I went to the Academy thinking I was the hottest thing to hit Caprica. And I got the shit kicked out of me. Not just for the first year, but for the first two years. Learned a lot."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Karl couldn’t meet his eyes. He stared down at the picture of Gaius Baltar on the back of Gaeta’s book. Finally, he said the closest he could manage to confession and apology, "You couldn't pay me to go back to high school and do the things I did then. I know better now."

Gaeta took the book back from him. "I have duty," he said slowly.

"I know." Karl stood up his stomach unsettled and a sour taste in his mouth. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

He went to the head and washed his face with cold water. Staring at his reflection in the mirror he muttered, “You, Karl Agathon, are a coward.”

Karl didn’t hunt Gaeta down to confess. He let the chance pass, as he’d let so many others. In the back of his mind, he still thought, _someday I’ll come clean_ , but someday never came and time passed. The longer he went without saying the words, the more reluctant he was to say them. Even when he realized he was calling Gaeta Felix and they weren’t just friends, they were good friends; Karl couldn’t manage to get the words out. They stayed trapped somewhere between intent and fear.

~~~

Ultimately, viciously, time ran out and Karl found himself looking at the real live version of the picture of the man on the back of Felix’s book. “Hey, aren’t you Gaius Baltar?”

“Yes, why, I haven’t done anything.”

Remembering Felix enthusing about his brilliance, Karl knew what he needed to do. “Could you come up here, please?” he asked. Sharon gave him a worried look.

“All right,” the man paused, turned to an older woman, “This woman has number forty-seven.” He turned to the woman and guided her over to the raptor. He was a good man, Karl decided, the type of man who even when the world was ending was kind to old women. Certainty settled on him. He was a man like Felix and this was the right thing to do.

In a very low voice, Sharon asked, “What’re you doing?”

Just as quietly, he answered, “Giving up my seat.”

“Like hell.”

“A civilian should go in my place.”

“You’re going.”

Karl looked at the crowd, Baltar and the mushroom clouds in the distance. “Look at those clouds, Sharon. Look at those clouds and tell me this isn't the end of... everything.”

Boomer shook her head. “Helo...”

Karl interrupted, “Whatever future is left is going to depend on the people who survive, give me one reason why I'm a better choice than one of the greatest minds of our time? You can do this without me, Sharon. I know you can. You've proven it.”

There was another reason for Karl to stay; this was going to be an ugly takeoff. He held the crowd back with his pistol as Sharon started lifting. One man, too desperate rushed the raptor jumping at the nose. She could lift with him, but not if anyone else jumped on, not with the kind of load she was carrying. Karl shot the man and he fell. With a threatening brandish of his weapon, he forced the rest of the crowd back. Within seconds of her liftoff the crowd dispersed, none willing to attack him now that hope had flown.

~~~

Karl stood perfectly still, utterly silent in a small janitor’s closet in some small town’s high school. Pitch black he waited for the centurions to find him. They marched past several times in their search never actually opening the door. During their repeated passes, he waited his legs tightly wedged between the mop bucket on one side and a large trash bin on the other. Shelves full of cleaning supplies poked his back. A suffocating sense of his air running out nearly overwhelmed him. The door cleared the floor at least an eighth of an inch; he knew he wouldn’t actually run out of air. He’d never been claustrophobic before. He knew, with utter certainty, he would be after this, or at least he would if he survived to walk out of the closet.

The entire time he waited in the small cramped closet his mind dredged up long lost details from when he shoved Felix into his locker. He had remembered Felix’s wide startled eyes and his ‘hey, come on, let me out,’ earlier. Now he remembered how slender Felix’s head felt under his hand as he shoved. He never had a chance to struggle. The footsteps stopped just outside and Karl held his weapon ready to shoot. _Is this what Felix felt like, closed in and scared out of his head_? He held his breath until their footsteps resumed and passed him by again. Karl released the held breath with relief. Another memory returned with visceral abruptness – warm breath against the palm of his hand. Felix had gasped air whistling out when he pushed him in. At the time, without registering what he was doing Karl had rubbed his hand against his pant leg wiping away the trace of heat left behind. Karl took another slow breath and released it. _How can he not remember what I did?_

After what felt like hours, the sounds of the centurions faded. Karl waited a little longer to be sure before turning the handle. He expected it to be full dark when the door opened. The sun had been setting when he fled into the school and found refuge in the supply closet. Instead, the sun had sunk only a little lower, it had been minutes, not hours. Karl huddled next to the wall shaking as he watched the sun set. _Half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes,_ he realized.

His head leaned against the concrete wall of the school’s hallway. He closed his eyes and memory sparked. Felix had slammed against the locker shelf when he pushed him in. His eyes blinked open again. There was no way Felix didn’t remember being shoved into his locker. He might not remember the one time Karl did it in all the times others did, but there was no frakking way he didn’t remember the experience.

“Okay,” he said softly, “okay, it’s different – being hunted by Cylons intent on exterminating the human race is not the same as being bullied by a bunch of jocks. But, yeah, I get it. Okay. Gods, I get it. Fear is fear and Paul was right. I’ll come clean.” He stood up heading deeper into the school to find a place to sleep. “I mean, if Felix is alive and I ever get back to _Galactica_ – I’ll come clean. So, um, can you stop with the making me remember all this stuff and help with the keeping me and Felix alive, so I can apologize?” he half promised, half prayed. “Just get me back there and I’ll do it.”

~~~

Karl stopped Dee coming out of the bridge crew’s racks, after Adama and Tigh finished debriefing him. “Dee, is Felix in there?”

“No, he’s probably heading for Baltar’s lab.” She gave him direction with a smile. “He’ll be glad you’re back.”

Felix wasn’t there, restlessly Karl walked around the lab trying to see Felix working in here with Baltar. He could, it was easier than he thought to see Felix in a lab coat. After a few minutes, Karl sat on one of the stools spinning for a few seconds then picking up one of the empty test tubes to play with. The hatch opened. No lab coat, just his uniform, Felix looked almost exactly like he had when Karl had left _Galactica_. He had the worried look everyone did, but he was still Felix. For a few seconds they stared at each other. Karl set the test tube down, hopped of the stool, and enfolded Felix with both arms.

“What the…you're back.” He patted a hand against Karl’s shoulder, as if reassuring himself he was actually real.

Karl tightened his arms; he knew exactly how Felix felt. “You didn't know?” Helo asked, releasing Felix reluctantly.

“I'd just heard.”

“Yeah, well." He stepped back a little giving him room. _Okay, time to do this._

 _“_ Listen, Felix. There's something I've been meaning to say for a long time now. I should have said it a long time ago, but I just never got up the guts. It was just too… you know? And when I was down on Caprica, I promised myself that if I made it back to  _Galactica_ , the first thing I was going to do was find you and say what I needed to say.”

Felix’s bemused, wary look stopped him. “You're not about to confess your undying love to me, are you? I'm not sure I could handle that.”

Karl laughed, fear and tension finally fleeing. “No. Look, I'm really sorry that I shoved you in your locker back in high school.” It was so easy, once he did it. _How did it ever take this long_ _?_

“What?”

“I said, I'm really sorry about high school,” Karl said again. He went on, and it got easier with every word, a weight lifting, “There's no excuse for it. You were there and you were an easy target, and I was dumb and being an ass. I'm sorry.”

“I didn't think you remembered,” Felix said.

 _He did remember, all this time, and not a word – and he gave me a chance anyway. Lucky, Karl Agathon, you were lucky._ “Well, I didn't at first. The name  _Gaeta_  didn't ring a bell, because hardly anyone ever called you that. It was always Felix, or worse.” He stopped, not wanting to get into the ‘or worse.’ They’d said ugly things about the band kids back then.

“Yeah.” To his relief, Felix didn’t ask what else they’d called him.

“It's been bothering me for a long time, ever since I put the pieces together. But you never mentioned it, and I didn't know if  _you'd_  forgotten.” He finished, admitting why he hadn’t said anything before, “And if you had… I didn't want to bring it back up and for you to hate me.”

Felix grinned and said with a laugh, “I don't hate you. I hadn't forgotten… but I kind of figured out that you weren't going to shove me into my locker here.”

 _Thank gods for Felix, he’s making this easy,_ Karl thought. “You wouldn't fit anymore.” Karl had to grin. He felt right with Felix, completely totally right for the first time since he realized what he’d done all those years ago.

Felix smiled back at his joke about him not fitting. “By the way, I don't think he knows, but Baltar should thank you for saving his life.”

“Me?” Felix’s eyebrow arched up again. “You're the one who gave him your seat on the Raptor.”

“Because I recognized him from your book, I hope he's been worth it." Karl couldn’t stop grinning.

Sorrow passed over Felix’s face and Karl realized his friend hadn’t just missed him, he’d grieved for him. “I'd never say it was worth it,” he said. “But thank you, from me.”

Still grinning, Karl asked, “So, it's all forgotten and forgiven?”

He nearly laughed at the impish smile Felix gave him. “Forgiven, yes, it has been for a long time. Forgotten? Hell no, I'm not  _ever_  letting you live it down.”

 


End file.
